The Mind's Journey Home
by SwampGirl
Summary: A sad Shang begins his journey home
1. The Journey Begins

**The Mind's Journey Home**

AUTHOR: [Chata Saladbar][1]

Chapter One: The Journey Begins 

With an involuntary small smile on this face, Shang watches her as she leaves the Imperial City. He sees the large enthusiastic crowd running after China's bravest new hero as if her honor would flow from her and into them like incense. He knows they will trail her for many miles. From high above the palace steps he can see her until she turns into a dot the mountainous landscape. He watches her until she is gone. Even then he continues to wait a few moments longer, glancing up at the sky and listening to the crackle of fireworks and the celebratory music from the square. He slightly scowls and presses his lips together, not ready to feel the confusing mixture of regret, sadness, pleasure and pride bubbling beneath the surface of his skin. The events of the day had unfolded before him like a sudden tempest. It had come and gone so quickly he barely had time to catch his breath. Had it all really happened? 

Chien-Po had wordlessly handed him her helmet. His large quiet face seemed to know what he yet could not admit to himself. Either of them could have easily raced up to her and returned the priceless article to her, instead Shang had clutched the helmet in his hands and remained steadfastly near the palace. The feel of the cool metal now gives him some comfort and hope now that she is gone. A sigh escapes him as he turns his back to the mountains and he walks towards to palace. 

He leaves Imperial City late the next morning after a long night of explaining to the Emperor's consuls his version of the war and what had happened in the palace. He then had spent the early morning preparing the orders to have the bodies of his father and the other fallen soldiers taken back to their homes. His soldiers now watch their quiet captain leave curious about his destination. They had told him what they knew about Mulan. where she was from and a few little stories of their lives together at the camp. Captain Li had said little and did not offer any anecdotes of his own, his young face had appeared numb and emotionless to them. He had only mentioned that the miserable first week of her training makes sense to him now, and that what she accomplished the following weeks defied everything he was taught to believe. 

As Shang clears the villages along the edges of the city, he is thankful to be alone with his thoughts. He had not a chance to mourn his father's death in solitude. He travels further and further down the mountains and tries to think of the hero his father was, the man among men he had idolized all his life. For miles he tells himself how noble it was that his father died honorably in battle. 

The mountain air stings his lips and hands, aggravating the bruises and cuts from his fight with Shan-Yu. He stops now and then to let his horse rest. He takes these moments to sketch the clearing mountaintops, remembering how his father thought that drawing and painting was a silly waste of time for a military man. For a moment he thinks he needs to hide his drawings once he gets home, then suddenly remembers that this secrecy wasn't necessary anymore. So many secrets he kept from the father he did not really know. 

As the sky brilliantly dims his thoughts turn dark and disparaging. The cold mountain air seem to dilute the tenuous comfort of his earlier tried and true valorizing thoughts. Rather, he thinks, was it arrogance and overconfidence that killed his father? The same arrogance that he himself desperately clung to despite witnessing a field of Hun-slaughtered soldiers, that somber graveyard which included the lifeless body of his father? All their lives they were taught that discipline and brute strength would vanquish their enemies, but ingenuity, perspicacity, and intelligence were far better allies in war. As an unwilling student he had learned that from her, Mulan. 

He halts his horse abruptly and shuts his eyes in effort to clear his brain of other images even less comforting. His white stallion paces nervously in place and he listens to the crunching noise of gravel beneath its hooves. His eyes slammed shut, the memory, startlingly vivid, plays on the backs of his eyelids: the mere moment he thought of killing her, killing Mulan. In that full measure of one heartbeat of burning bitterness she and he were sworn enemies: he was blinded by the wrath from her deception, obligated to the Laws of the Emperor, and feared the penalty of not carrying out His laws. Only one second of a brutal emotion would bring him a lifetime of regret. For when he glanced down at the prostrate female incarnation of Ping, he was struck by the familiarity of her face and the conviction of her voice. He could not do this despite the belligerant cursing of Chi Fu's voice. Then as he unsheathed her sword with its rasping ping and the neighing outcry of her black stallion echoing behind him, he walked towards her, all the while wondering how he could have not of noticed how beautiful this person was. His cold dark eyes watched how a few black strands of her hair fell in one delicate graceful arch over her smooth skin, how her cheeks were russet and fiery from the fever of her injury, and how her eyes, brilliant pure honest eyes, were set so perfectly apart in the pale oval of her face. Those eyes rested on him and pleaded for her life. He could never harm her, she had done so much for him. He had angrily hurled her sword to the ground in front of her, more angry at himself than her. A life for a life he had told her, those wretched hollow words. His chest had tightened when he turned away from Mulan for what he thought would be forever. He did not wait to her see if her eyes expressed his condemnation or forgiveness. He had been too angry and afraid, afraid of her, afraid of the death and destruction that could have continued if not for HER ...afraid of his own fervid new emotions. 

Thereupon he abandoned her with her father's naked sword gleaming in front of her. On a frozen mountain bludgeoned with the graves of two thousand Huns he left one small magnolia bloom, holding itself sturdy against the storm, the hardness, the pain, the heartache of dishonor. All because he was unable to allow himself to question his implicit belief in tradition, those cobwebs of antiquity that almost felled China. He was unable to admit his failure. For as a woman Mulan was able to succeed where as a man he could not; she was able to save her father and China in the process. 

It is night now. He lies staring up at the heavens as a quiet moon glows a silver cast over the landscape. The stillness reminds him of his loneliness and that his father is no longer alive. 

He tries to sleep but his thoughts toss and turn back to Mulan on that ice-bound mountain. The recurring vision of the smooth pale loveliness that were her bare shoulders does not allow him to rest. 

*** 

   [1]: mailto:saladbar8@hotmail.com



	2. The Fans

**The Mind's Journey Home**

AUTHOR: [Chata Saladbar][1]

Chapter Two: The Fans 

To his surprise the next village is boisterous with celebrations. Not only had a messenger already arrived with the news of China's victory, but the great hero Mulan herself had passed through. She is uncharacteristicly vivacious and friendly woman, perfect for the role of a public hero and the villagers had loved her instantly. Shang wonders if they are perhaps disappointed in him, this serious, very cold in comparison, Captain arriving hastily on his Imperial stallion, offering none of her vitality, none of her purity and goodness. 

"Honorable Captain, the man who helped Mulan save the Emperor!" several different voices call out around him. If they bear any dislike of him, the crowds did not show it. They surround him instantly, bow and scrape to him, plead for more tales about the Emperor's rescue and wanting to share in their hospitality. He continues to try to move on telling them he is only in for a few supplies. He is exceedingly uncomfortable in this spotlight, and not feeling deserving of their attention. He eventually acquieses and dismounts to hear their stories and to drink in their enthusiasm for Mulan. 

The experience is not entirely painful for him, for he catches a glimpse into Mulan's past that he did not know despite the adventure they shared. Mulan is the only child of a famous chinese general. The General did not have a son to focus his energies on, so he was able to satiate his daughter's immense curiousity by teaching her a little about martial arts and swordmanship never thinking she would seriously take the lessons to heart. Only when she did not learn her mother's lessons as well as her father's did her parents start to worry. They knew well that a girl with such spirit would not be wanted by any good family. 

Shang suddenly appreciates how she was able blend in with the men in the camp, though she had little of a man's brute strength, she gained athleticism and agility from her famous father. He grins at the story of the poor singed Matchmaker, her failed attempt to follow into a traditional woman's life, though he knows at the time how painful this episode must have been to her. 

She had told them that the night of her disgrace with the Matchmaker, after her ailing father had received his conscription notice, was the only time her father had yelled at her to learn her place as a woman, a place that she had failed to fit. She had little left but to save her father from his certain death, as it was the least she could do for not becoming the proper daughter to him. 

Just like that she had opened her heart and rested it on her palms for everyone to see. She might have been rejected by the Matchmaker, but he knew she was blessed by the spirit of a great warrior and possessed a loving and optimistic attitude that awed the crowds. They openly trusted her as many of her comrades did. Why did it take him so long? And why did the longest to fall plunge the deepest into her resplendence? 

There is a consistent tugging on his cape. He turns and looks down to see three small children clutching the red fabric with their small sticky hands and looking up at him with earnest wonder. Their mothers rush to admonish their young but he waves his hand and smiles. Looking down at their smooth faces he finds it hard to believe that he and his sister were also once so young, so awed by a soldier's colorful uniform and so innocent of the realities of war. He kneels to talk to them and one small girl abruptly clutches his neck knocking him a little off balance, "Ba-Ba?" she asks burying her face into his neck. He wraps his arms instinctively around her, enjoying in the small bundle of warmth. 

"No," he tells her. "Your Daddy will be home soon." 

"My Ba-ba wears a cape too," the little girls mumbles in his ear. 

He looks up at her mother, her face is pale and eyes wet. Was her husband, this girl's father on that same bloody battleground with his own dead father? He has not cried over his father's death, but as he holds the girl it takes an Herculean effort not to weep for hers. He holds the innocent victim too long, but she does not release him as he tries to stop the waves of anguish that threaten to take control of him. 

"Honorable Captain, the man who helped Mulan save the Emperor!" 

Those words again, piercing him with their falseness. 

"Honorable Captain, who held the Evil Hun Shan-Yu at bay!" 

"Honorable Captain, the man who helped Mulan save the Emperor! Tell us about her! Tell us about M!" 

*I'm a fake.* He wants to say as he puts down the girl and rises to face them. *I deserve your curses not your adulation*. He can not stop the slight tremble in his hands as he watches her run to her mother. Think of the girl's life not her father's, he tells himself, think of what China's new hero allows her. 

The voices pound around him and no gestures can make them stop. What should he tell them about Mulan? What could he say about her that they haven't realized? That she is pure, valiant, and untarnished? That despite those that have tried to destroy it her virtue remains? That the soldier before them failed her and is not complete because of it? 

He gazes over their different faces, so full of hope and admiration. He feels older than even the wrinkled weather-beaten faces of the dark elders. He must say something. The words do not come to him at first, at least not the words that would appease a joyful crowd. 

"She is China's great hero -- full of beauty and intelligence. She is a devoted daughter and...," he finally tells them calmly, though with some effort. "and a brave soldier that saved the Emperor with her wit and strength." 

He stops but the crowd's eyes continues to stare at him unsatiated. "a-and an indomitable spirit ..." he continues more shakily. "that for some unknown reason risked everything to save me twice when I did not deserve her loyalty. All these things produce a woman beyond explanation. She is indefinable...and I," he hesitates, the word lingering in his throat,"and I long to see her again." 

The crowd is quiet except for the collective sighs from the women present. He listens to a few more moments of silence, then hears the rustle of fabrics and hushed tones of whispers as the pungent smells of fresh fish, dried herbs and alcohol waft around him. Then as suddenly as it stopped, the music and chatter resumes more loudly than before. Hands are patting him, people are congratulating him, drinks and food are thrust into his hands He sweeps his gaze around him, looking for a way out, but he is stuck here for a little while longer. "Thank you" he tells them a few times, his words creak out of his mouth. 

The next few nights and days he avoids the villages. He no longer feels anything, the emptiness seems to swallow him whole. His sleep continues to be restless and short, with fears he can not name. His dreams become filled with shadows and spirits of dead soldiers, which seemed to stay just out of sight so he can not see the faces of those who haunt him and those that admonish him, but he is sure one of them is his father's and one them is Mulan's. 

**** 

   [1]: mailto:saladbar8@hotmail.com



	3. The Dinner

**The Mind's Journey Home**

AUTHOR: [Chata Saladbar][1]

Chapter 3: Dinner 

His attempts to keep himself awake all night to escape the shadows that visit his sleep allow him to travel fast. When he arrives at Mulan's village he is sure he had beaten her and the messengers. He only draws curious stares as he walks pass the numerous small markets chaotically displaying wooden crates of fruits and vegetables. Further down men and women crouch behind their makeshift stalls, selling whatever they can. He pauses buy a bath and a shave, and only to asks for directions. 

Entering the Fa grounds he sees that they are of some wealth. The gardens, statues and buildings are a smaller version of his own residence. Their relative smallness allows them an intimacy and feeling of warmth his home never had. 

He sees two older women waiting anxiously by the gate. He can tell by the similar features that the younger of the two must be Mulan's mother, a beautiful woman with dark hair symetrically streaked with gray on each side. She displays an air of elegant authority much like his own mother did before she became sick. The other woman was tiny and old with a deeply creased face and large soulful eyes. She must be Mulan's grandmother. Both women seem shocked beyond words when he asks them if this is where Mulan lived. They only silently point towards the inner garden. 

In his nervousness he only could see the old General, Mulan's father. Soldiers and Generals he is used to, he had grown up around them his whole life. Gaining some confidence he starts to address him, "Honorable Fa Zhou.." he begins the speech he prepared. 

"Mulan!" he almost exclaims when she appears behind her father. He had almost forgotten how what a rare beauty she is, and the reality of her presense punches him in the stomach so hard it makes him forget his own language. He catches the scent of her, clean and floral. It makes him recall with perfect clarity of every moment he has known her; even Ping smelled like that. She looks shocked to see him. 

"You forgot your helmet" he tells her, thrusting the metal object awkwardly in front of her, "or rather it is YOUR helmet, isn't it? -- I mean..." he adds turning hastily the the old soldier. 

He isn't fooling anyone. The father and daughter exchange glances in a way that makes him ache not only for his own father, but for the similar secret language between parent and child he never shared with his. 

Mulan moves closer to him taking the helmet gently from him and hugs it. "Would you like to stay for dinner?" Her voice is calm and confident. 

"Would you like to stay forever?!" He hears the grandmother yell from the distance. He smiles and automatically feels a certain affection for the old woman. Mulan grins and shakes her head slowly at her grandmother. She shows nothing but amusement for her and none of the easy embarassment one would expect. 

He is able to regain some confidence to the timbre of his voice. "Dinner would be great." 

*** 

The family swarm them with questions as they prepare for their meal. He is unaccustomed to being around the hussle and energy of a real family, with all its little arguments, questions and concerns. Instead of feeling uncomfortable he relishes quietly in the warmth of their common familial bonds as the sweet aroma of teas and spices float around the room. 

"How did Mulan survive? How did she get the crest of the Emperor? Shan-Yu's sword?" Their curiousity and questions blend together. 

Shang has found that in his own experience dealing with parents, it was best to leave out the scary details and discuss only the pertinent information. "It was her shrewd strategies that lead to the fall of the Huns and Shan-Yu." He tells them. "The Emperor justly rewarded her for her brave soldiership and acumen in the fine art of battle. Your daughter is a great hero as no doubt you will find out more details when the messengers arrive soon." 

Fa Li lets out a sharp gasp and turns toward her daughter. "You were in battle?! How could you put yourself at such risk? You could have been killed!" 

"Mama, as you can see I survived, I was capable, thanks to the Captain's excellent training." She smiles a large, almost mischievious smile, as if she had a lot to prove to her mother. "I wasn't alone, our regiment worked together ... with special help from our ancestors." 

Shang opens his mouth to protest but instead nervously flicks at his rice. A beautiful inviting spread of homecooked comestibles lies before him but his appetite remains dulled despite his attempts to muster up a polite and eager palate. 

"There will be plenty of time for the complete story." Fa Zhou states calmly, wanting peace at the table. "We are grateful that our daughter is alive and well and that her captain has honored us with his visit. We are celebrating tonight." 

"You look tired." Mulan tells Shang. He is touched that she knows him so well, that she is able to tell the subtle distinctions of his condition. 

"I had a lot explaining to do to the Emperial Consuls and so now I've been traveling fast to get home and tend to my father's estate." He lies a little, unable to tell her the real images behind his insomnia, or the main motive behind his journey. "My father died fighting Shan-Yu and the Huns," he addresses Fa Zhou, "and I am his only heir. My sister is married and lives further south, so I have to make the preparations..." 

"Your father died honorably serving the Emperor." Fa Zhu solemnly tells him. 

Shang smiles, though his eyes are somber. He wants to believe that. He really wants to sleep forever on that thought. He has to turn his face away to tell another small lie. He studies the billowing soft curtains at the window before he answers. Their translucency barely diffuses the orange brilliancy of a setting sun. A peaceful dusty orange wraps the room like a warm protecting blanket. But he knows soon blackness will begin to steal the sunbeams and start another dark night on an earth that his father is no longer alive on. 

"Thank you sir, I know he did." He finally says. He can not lie good enough to conceal the remorse and bitterness that linger in this thoughts. 

"Ah my son, what about your mother?" grandmother asks him. She is studying him with unusual intensity, as if she is reading his mind. 

He looks at her for a few beats, trying to decipher what she sees. "She died several years ago." 

"I'm sorry." Mulan tells him with the same intonation Ping had used after he learned of his father's death on that bloody mountain. He feels the familiar hurt in this throat tighten. 

"Well tonight you will sleep. An Imperial Soldier requires rest and you look like you need lots of it." Grandma rises abruptly and heads toward the kitchen. "I have some special medicinal tea that will bring you slumber. You'll sleep like a stone here in this house tonight." 

Shang starts to protest but Fa Zhou raises his palm. "We do not turn away an Imperial soldier. It will honor us if you stayed." 

Grandma returns immediately with a different pot. "Drink this now, if you wait until it seeps too much you won't arise until noon! and we have much to talk to you about." Who could ever refuse Grandma? He thanks her with a slight bow. 

The warm bitter blend has almost an immediate effect on him, and gives him the courage to look at Mulan (whose face he has been nervously avoiding all evening). He catches her eyes upon him. He tries to suppress a smile, as she attempts to suppress a flush against her skin. Neither succeed. He watches how the tip of her tongue wets the fullness of her lips as she lowers her gaze. Her eyes remain serene, confident and full of life. Had he really blackened one of those large pools in martial arts practice when he had thought she was Ping, a boy? Had really held that lovely face inches from his own as his rough hands wrapped around the collar of that smooth and elegant neck? And why now is there just the artless urge to place his mouth on that smoothness, feel the pulse under her skin against his lips as they travel down to the warm hollow of her throat, that cup between her collarbone, and lingering there, tasting her. 

He is drawn out of this revery by a question. Was he staring? "Excuse me?" his words tumble out abruptly, an octave higher than his normal voice. 

"Why did you spare her life?" Fa Zhou asks him sternly, but not angrily. "She now stands before you as a woman so you must have known such at some point during your adventure." 

He is thrown off balance by the abruptness in which the question was asked. He takes nervous gulps of the opaque liquid in his cup, emptying it too quickly. He looks briefly at Mulan, her eyes are soft, rich as tea, her hands long and pale around her tea cup. If she was anxious for his answer it does not show. 

"I-I couldn't, I was angry enough but she had just saved my life, our lives. I didn't feel the Emperor's Laws applied this unique situation." He must tell all of it, leaving out her injury for now, he owed them honesty through this story. "I did throw her out of the army, I left her alone up there on that snowy mountain ... Forgive me Honorable Fa Zhou, I shouldn't have left her, I was horrible." Unable to finish he looks down to see his cup being filled again. He stares at the odd colored tea leaves pressing against the murky swirly surface of the liquid. The strange concoction is already making him feel dizzy. He knows he needs to continue his explanation but is too sadly convinced that everyone in the room now hated him for dishonoring there wonderful daughter and granddaughter. 

He did not conceive that the opposite was true. The elders empathize with the hurt emanating from this handsome young son of a General, they see the internal struggle of his heart and mind and the confusion so painted on his guileless face. It is evident he has fallen hard, very hard, for their unconventional Mulan and that he is at a loss with those emotions. He has no father or mother to guide him, and this softens their instinctual paternal and maternal hearts. 

"I thank you then for sparing my daughter's life." Fa Zhou rests a kind palm on his shoulder. "Not many commanding officers would tolerate such a deception no matter what the unique consequences. Emperors have been known to cut off the heads of Officers for lesser infractions. Our family owes you much." 

"Honorable Fa Zhou, a worthy soldier would take such punishment for the good of their county, for doing what is right. Mulan saved China, she saved the Emperor single-handedly! I only sit here because she exists. Her death could have meant death of all of us. I have done nothing but barely allow a hero to take her place in history." 

He stops abruptly because his eyelids suddenly feel weighted with lead and need the help from his fingertips to keep them open. He is overcome with the sensation of weariness and utter vulnerability. Perhaps he had been already too exhausted to have wisely accepted such a soporific beverage. 

"How much of your medicinal leaves did you put in there Grandma?" Fa Li asks her mother-in-law with an accusatory expression. 

"A lot, but I guess he was more tired than I thought." she answers, feigning innocence. 

Mulan stretches her arm out across the table, wanting to touch him. Her soft words wafts across the distance between them. "Shang, it is OK. You did what you felt was right. I am sorry I deceived you and I am grateful f or what you have done for me, allowing me to live and trusting me when I needed it. Together we saved the Emperor, all the pieces had to be in place." 

They look at each other for a long moment, each admiring the beauty of the other's stare. The words, the apologies, the unsaid feelings hovers in the space between them. Shang resists the urge to clasp that beautiful benevolent hand. The combination of her tender-hearted forgiving expression, the mysterious tea and the warm inviting family environment make it increasingly difficult to contain his polite composure. His mind continues to instruct him: you need to counter her statement, to say thank-you to her mother for the kind meal and company ... talk about valor and victory to her father ... thank grandmother for the debilitating medicine... He starts to work his mouth, but his phrases get lost somewhere between his brain and the heat leaving in his body. Instead he places a hand on his brow and says aloud what he thought he was only thinking, "I want to finally sleep..." 

*** 

   [1]: mailto:saladbar8@hotmail.com



	4. The Kiss

**The Mind's Journey Home**

AUTHOR: [Chata Saladbar][1]

Chapter 4: The Kiss 

With the excuse bringing him of some morning tea Mulan slips into the bedroom. She knows he will be asleep but she thinks how nice it would be for him to wake up to good sweet smell of tea. The day is just breaking and the house is still. She tiptoes across the room to the nightstand to place the tray down, trying not to steal glance at him. She looks anyway and her breath becomes caught. She first casts her eyes on his hands gently clutching the blanket around him, then his peaceful face with its even features flushed with the warmth of rest. He is intensely beautiful, a golden tanned figure against the wintery white silk sheets; and so deep in slumber he doesn't even stir when she clumsily clanks the pot with the cup as she blindly puts the tray down unable to take her eyes off of him. 

It feels illicit, practically taboo to watch him sleep. She is suppose to turn around and leave now. She is not suppose to be in a room with a half dressed sleeping man. But the sight of him, laying on her bed, safely tucked away inside her home, with her favorite teapot and cup next to him--the sight stirs her heart. Instead she watches how the first morning light plays on his bare shoulders, and how his chest rises and falls without a sound. The lean and powerful muscles of his arms are intoxicating. She yearns to touch him. She wants to feel that tender demarcation line on his biceps. She steps forward and cups her hands over his upper arm, which is hard and taut even though relaxed in sleep. She thinks everything about him exactly right. 

When she had first saw Shang striding up into her garden she thought her imagination had conjured up him in thin air. She never imagined she would again see the man that in just a few weeks had completely turned her life around, had made her question and change her quest, who had bloomed an excitation deep inside of her that she never knew existed. Although he looked as if he had lost weight, and the area beneath his eyes were a shade darker, he was still the most handsome man in China. There hadn't been time to discern his intentions. He obviously was nervous but she was too inexperienced to read his eyes or his body language. There was so much she wanted to tell him, so much to thank him for. 

How would she describe to him his role the instance of her ascent beyond the child, the daughter, the woman? How could she describe the tumultuous moment she saw him lay unconscious across from Shan-Yu. The motive of her journey had been one to prove her worth to her family, then to her captain, and finally to herself. But as she watched Shang, finished in his task and a few seconds from death, her father's words "I will die doing what's right" resonated in her ears. Doing what was right should be the only motive, Shang and her father already knew what she had just realized. Until then she had never been able to join a cause and pour her soul into it without first having to do it for someone, to have someone else give it a reason, a character and a manner. But now she knew in an instant that killing Shan-Yu and removing him from China forever, and saving her captain was the right thing for other no reason other than that, even if it meant her death. And as she faced her nemesis, it was their strength and lessons that flowed through her. 

She watches him for a few moments more, then leans toward him and lightly presses her lips to his. His lips are smooth and warm. If he leaves in the morning forever at least she would have this. "Thank you" she mumbles to him. She then turns and tiptoes out. 

***** 

   [1]: mailto:saladbar8@hotmail.com



	5. Grandma

**The Mind's Journey Home**

AUTHOR: [Chata Saladbar][1]

Chapter 5: Grandma 

The sunlight streaming in through the window blinds Shang, which doesn't make recognizing his surroundings any easier. The high angle of the light tells him it is late, too late. The bed is soft, and the sheets smell floral, he realizes. The light scent reminds him of... abruptly he sits up remembering suddenly he is in Mulan's house, then realizes with a gasp that he is in her very bedroom. With eyes blinking against the harsh light he looks around and tries to remember how he got here. 

The late morning sun bleaches the room and the house is silent, peacefully so. His tongue faintly tastes the acrid tea he drank last night. His body aches as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed and his skin feels unusually hot. He places his face in his hands, his unbound hair falling in tousled thick threads, and recalls with bitter disappointment the events of dinner. Such irony, he thinks, how he wanted to proudly face Mulan to thank her and instead just collapses. This seems to be a recurring pattern he has with her. 

"Perhaps this isn't ironic," he says aloud to no one. "Perhaps it is just pathetic." 

He drinks the cold tea on the nightstand, wishing for more to moisten his dry mouth and throat. He stumbles after he lifts himself off the bed, his legs suddenly not used to carrying weight, and then does the best ablutions he can in the washbasin. He remembers clearly his father's words of cleaniness helping to set an ordered and proficient example to his men. Outside he hears the crescendoing voices of two women. As the voices and footsteps get closer he recognizes that they are Fa Li's and Grandma's. 

"I am, really I am," Fa Li is saying. "But a war hero? That is a world a woman has no right to. We had great plans for her to marry into a respected family." 

"She is unique." Grandma's voice. "This is one child that is choosing her own path to honor. History will give her respect." 

Fa Li isn't listening. "What good family would want a war hero for a daughter-in-law? We don't know--" 

"I wouldn't worry about it, trust me." Grandma interrupts her knowingly. 

He steps out of the bedroom and walks toward them, fully expecting some stern, disapproving glares. Instead, he is received by the two biggest smiles that he has ever been greeted with since before his own mother fell ill. Puzzled, he looks quickly to see if anyone else walked in behind him. 

"Good morning Captain Li!" Fa Li welcomes him, her arms gesturing wide. "Please sit down and eat breakfast, or rather almost lunch. Shiheng made some strengthening soup and herbal tea." 

On cue a servant of undeterminable age walks in carrying a tray of soup and tea. She carries the same smile as the others and is chattering happily about the ingredients. Shang had never heard a servant talk so much, his family's household servants were always solemn and seemed to resent his presence. He had always felt uncomfortable being waited on, although his parents seemed to thrive on it. 

"Ah, you look MUCH better!" greets Grandma, clasping her hands together. 

Shang cautiously moves towards the table, not knowing what to make of them. "I must profusely apologize for sleeping this late and for being a dishonorable and unexpected guest last night. I am truly very sorry." 

Grandma waves him off. "I knew you needed the rest. One's thoughts become poisonous when the body is tired." 

Her bright almond eyes pierce right through him as if his mind and feelings were translucent. He shifts uncomfortably and lowers his gaze, pretending to study his soup. 

Fa Li's smile does not fade. "We are so happy to have you here." She pats him motherly on his shoulder. "I would love to accompany you with your lunch, but there is a ceremony in town for Mulan, Father and she are already there. You will join us after your meal if you are up to it?" 

"Yes, of course." 

Fa Li and Shiheng exit from opposite corners of the room leaving him alone with Grandma. She sits across from him and takes one of his hands in hers. He is unused to the intimacy of this gesture. When was the last time someone clasped his hand? 

"Your hand is warm," she tells him. "You might be coming down with fever. You shouldn't travel for a few days." 

He nods obediently though he knows he needs to get home. He acutely senses the full presence of someone with 50-plus years more knowledge, like the village wise women the servants used to whisper about. 

"Mulan told the family the story of her adventure early this morning." she tells him, not releasing his hand. "We are all still in shock." 

He continues to find the soup interesting, unable to meet her eyes. 

"And then there was her description of you, I wasn't sure if there was a young man or really a god sleeping soundly in the next room." 

He looks up at her with a surprised expression. "What do you mean?" 

"She says you graduated at the top of your class, a year early too," she says. "And on your first assignment transformed a group of peasants into fine officers. AND despite your father's death continued to-" 

"It sounds better than it is," he interrupts her, not wanting to hear anymore. His father had once told him even the illusion of power is power. He had gained the illusion of success, but inside he felt like a boy in a man's uniform. 

"Tell me, Captain Li, the military as a career would not be your first choice would it?" she smiles and squeezes his hand still trapped in her grasp. "Don't look at me as if I am a sage, young man. Anyone with a few years can read you as clearly as you can see the lines on my old face. Shall I tell you what I already know about you?" 

Shang nods at little nervously. 

"You have the intellect, courage and strength to be the finest soldier in the Imperial Army, but your sensitivity makes you vulnerable. It can be your best asset, when you let it. It allowed you to spare my granddaughter's life permitting her to do great things, it allowed you to defy convention and join her and it allows you to be human instead one of those pompous fat roosters most men can be. However, now you let it swallow you in the shame that you wrongly believe you deserve." 

She continues to smile at him as he tries to process what she has just told him. "I don't know what to believe anymore," he finally whispers sadly. "We saw so much death, death of great people. Everything I had believed in died with my father and I can not live with what I did to your granddaughter." 

"Your father's army was a great one, its ideals have served us well for generations and those ideals will continue to guide us for many more. The fault would be to be not to open new opportunities. Despite being at a young impressionable age and thrust with enormous responsibities, you did open up to a new idea, that is a gift that we all are grateful for. I think if you didn't care for Mulan so much you would see this objectively." 

His face deeply reddens but he continues to look at the Grandma. Her wiseness and grace of spirit exudes true beauty to her countenance. He wants to stay here forever, where the elders smile and touch him with affection, where the servants are happy, where the furniture and decorations look lived in, and where the beautiful strong Mulan walks and stirs his senses. 

"Grieve for your father, but be happy knowing that people we love never really leave us. Their memories and spirits stay with you, comforting, guiding you through the rest of the years of your life. There will be yearning, there is pain, but they are the first steps in letting our memories change the pain to joy, joy from having them with us once more, bringing them back to life with those moments of clarity, those moments we remember their laughter, their advice and their strength." Grandma rises and turns, ready to leave him to the tears that well up in his eyes. "Go join in the ceremony for Mulan, but only after you finish that soup. And then during the respite from the Huns, go do what you really wanted to be, the painter, the musician? And make Mulan happy." 

His mouth drops open, until now he had refused to hope for anything more than her forgiveness. He had refused to let himself dream of having her always. He was her would-be executioner, why would she want to always be haunted by that fact? "I don't think Mulan will have me," he says. 

Grandma lets out a giggle, sounding more like a young girl than and wise old woman, and then walks away. 

**** 

   [1]: mailto:saladbar8@hotmail.com



	6. The Green-Eyed Monster

**The Mind's Journey Home **

AUTHOR: [Chata Saladbar][1]

Chapter 6: The Green-eyed Monster 

When Shang finally reaches the village square he is greeted by the cacophony of sounds and the myriad of odors that belong to celebrations everywhere. The squeaking wheels of hand-pulled carts, cackle of old men and laughter of small children move all around him. He smiles despite of himself, despite the fact that only hour before he had laid his head down and hoped for the day Grandma predicted, a day where he would look back at the untimely deaths of his parents without the feeling of a knife being shoved into his gut. Grandma's words give him much hope. 

He walks through the cramped, confined maze, negotiating his way past the people planted everywhere. He is drawn to a single and loud allocution from a makeshift stage and follows the sound. It is up on the stage where he sees her first, a slim and small body, that he knows, despite all its petiteness, is ironclad and determined. His height allows him an unobstructed view. Flanked by her family, Mulan stands calm and self-possessed. Her presence alone could have filled the stage. 

Some official is proclaiming her achievement, describing her great deeds with waving arms and a fluctuating intensity in his voice for dramatic presentation. Shang focuses on Mulan. Watching her he decides that her beauty comes from more than her lovely exterior but rather from some lit-from-within quality that he finds so extraordinary. He hopes that the Matchmaker is in this square eating her words slowly like boulders. "She'll have many marriage offers now" he says quietly to himself, losing the smile that had so effortlessly been formed on his face earlier; he was foolish let Grandma get his hopes up. Why would Mulan consider his offer? Even if her father agreed, he would never push his daughter into a marriage. 

It is a dry, bright day, the late spring heat is tempered only by a steady valley breeze. The official describing Mulan's adventure can't help but reveal his own deeply ingrained gender biases. He doesn't do Mulan justice. He doesn't state that only once in a dynasty does a human break free from the confines of the little world into which they were born and escape from the tradition in which they were created in. And in stepping out of their own time and place they find universal fame. If there was anyway he could repay Mulan, it would be to insure that her story isn't forgotten and that she becomes part of the common of knowledge of names and stories for China's eternity. He promises this to himself. 

The retelling of her epic to hundreds only serves to awaken Shang's guilt. He wonders for a moment what he is doing here; he should ride home now before he loses any more face. He could then settle himself securely as the master of his large empty estate. He could be content as a bachelor, harming no woman with the lifelessness of his home. Perhaps as pennance he would also give most of his belongings away, away to the peasants carrying unspeakable loads in front of him. Once ensconsed in his life perhaps he would only remember Mulan's great deeds and forget how she had once fully owned his soul. 

"Are you Captain Li Shang?" a young female voice addresses him. 

"Of course he is Meigui. They said he was coming and he is the only one in an Imperial uniform!" A different female voice scolds the other. 

"Oh Feilang...she is just trying to be polite." Even another feminine voice, "obviously something you know _little_ about." 

"She isn't _suppose_ to address him _first_, I _know_ that much." Yet another. 

The conversation is enough to break Shang's thoughts. He looks around him and finds himself presented with a bouquet of four lovely young girls around him. He doesn't remember a time when he had ever been in the presence of so many unescorted women. 

"No..that's fine," he tells them. "I mean yes, I am Captain Li Shang." 

His response is returned with giggles. The girls glance at each other then eye him with shy but inquisitive stares. 

"You held that monster Shan-Yu down so the Emperor could escape!" One of the girls exclaims, lowering her face a little but looking straight at him with large coquettish dark eyes. 

He watches for a moment how the wind simultaneously lifts each of the girl's straight black hair from their shoulders. They wear brightly colored silk robes with alternating hues that compliment what the other is wearing. Together they make a pretty picture; he wishes he had brought his sketchbook. 

"It was Fa Mulan that allowed the Emperor to escape." He tells them as he told many others from that first village he passed on his journey. 

His comment does not phase them. "My father is inviting you to his house tonight to honor you." The prettiest one, Meigui, is definitely the boldest one of the group. "My father is a very important man, he has already talked to Fa Zhou about this, isn't that where you are staying? My father wanted to make sure you were not there for other reasons." 

"You aren't _suppose_ to meet him until _then_." The other girl pipes in. "We are going to be in _trouble_. We _all_ are _going_ to be in _trouble_." 

Shang grins at the way the girl seems to emphasize every other word. 

"Hush Xiu, I am not doing anything wrong..." Meigui pouts at her friend, and then with a face that has stared at itself too often in mirrors turns to him with a smile. "Am I Captain Li?" 

"Of course not." 

"See?" Meigui teases her friend. Shang half expects her to stick her tongue out a Xiu, but she doesn't. Instead she remains surprisely composed and regal. "You will make it tonight when my father asks?" 

"I was hoping to start my travels tonight," Shang feels a little bad for disappointing her. 

"I've been told that one should never start a journey at night. Besides my father was so hoping to talk to you, he was friends with your father. So were the fathers of Xiu, Feilang and Hua." Her smooth upturned palm points to her friends. She is standing a foot farther past her three shyer companions. 

"We _all_ grew up with stories of your _fine_ house." Xiu is talking now. " Do you remember General _Chou?_ My dad told us how _mischievious_ and _wild_ you were as a little _boy_." 

Shang laughs then, his first real laugh in months. He remembers a simplier time when he wasn't so anxious to be groomed into the family's profession. "Yes, I guess I was," he says. "and I remember your father well. Neither he or my dad were too impressed with me back then." 

"Our fathers are certainly impressed with you now." Meigui tells him. "They would be honored to see you again." 

A hand cart wheels periously close to Meigui and Shang has to pull her closer to get her out of the way. "Be careful," he warns her. 

Meigui doesn't move back, she stays near him, but he doesn't hear her reply. Something makes him turn his attention back up to the stage. Mulan stands there with her hands on her hips, as slender and uncertain as the day he first saw her (him). This time there is also a shadow in her expression, as if that something that forever linked them, that something that started in another time and place, is broken; trouble comes down like a curtain between them. 

When she hurriedly leaves the stage he calls out to her, but the noise from the crowd seems to increase, drowning out his voice. 

**** 

   [1]: mailto:saladbar8@hotmail.com



	7. The Bigger Kiss

**The Mind's Journey Home **

AUTHOR: [Chata Saladbar][1]

Chapter 7: The Bigger Kiss 

She disappears so quickly from his view that by the time Shang pushes his way to the stage he is at a loss on how to find her. He does not know why he feels the urgent need to speak to her, but something about her expression worries him. It is not often he relies on unfounded instinct, but an invisible force now draws him to her like gravity. 

He finds Grandma surrounded by her women friends and tries to ask her about her granddaughter's whereabouts without sounding anxious. 

"She has left? Of all times for her to wander off Captain Li..." she complains glancing back to her friends for a moment. Shang stands in fear that he would be kept there with some unnecessary exchange of pleasantries with her friends, but Grandma does not have these intentions. "Would you be so kind as to find her Captain? She will miss the opportunity to talk to so many of our distinguished friends." Again her smile is as warm and generous as before, with a hint of something devious. 

He gratefully promises her that he would try before taking off in a quick pace around the village. He looks in alley ways, shops and even asks a few villagers making sure to note that it was her grandmother that was inquiring about her location. At last he follows a hunch and takes his stallion away from town. 

**** 

Shang finds the Li household is empty, he does not even hear a servant in the kitchen. He exits out into the garden, slowly walking pass the ornate statutes and carefully crafted walks and bridges. He stares out into the soft rolling landscape, hoping, wishing to see her image haloed against the evergreens. The scene is peaceful and empty, a stark contrast to the chaos of the village. With his heart heavy he turns to leave. Perhaps now is the best time to continue on his journey after his requisite thanks to her parents. Perhaps Mulan just truly did not want to be found. 

A sudden, cold wind brushes the back of his head, and the too sweet smell of dying flowers fills his lungs. This makes him absently glance back into the garden to see the culprit tree that is losing its blooms. That is when he sees her, partially hidden and leaning against a Magnolia tree, its fleeing petals dropping around her like tears off a face. 

He nervously walks toward her, stopping a few respectable yards from her for propriety he tells himself. Though the truth is that with each step closer he feels more in danger of becoming intoxicated and becoming a slave to emotions he'd rather not let surface. 

"Mulan, your grandmother wishes you to return to the village." His voice is cool and proper. "I will accompany you back if you wish." 

Their eyes meet and he feels his cheeks blush. She appears absolutely startled to see him and is immovable for a few moments. Upon recovery she states, "I told Grandma I wanted no more of the ceremony." 

"Oh, I see." He is confused for a second, perhaps he had misunderstood her grandmother's intentions. "But you are so deserving in these celebrations. Why not go and enjoy your accomplishments?" 

He doesn't know why the tension seems so tight, they'd been alone together before, but never as man and woman he realizes. 

She looks down at her hands idling turning a leaf over and over. "I went through many celebrations gladly on my journey home, but here, among old acquaintances ..." She sighs deeply. "It feels so hypocritical to be around all these people who once thought I was so dishonorable and now suddenly have them think otherwise." 

He instantly understands that he is among those acquaintances that had once believed her dishonorable, that his presence here disturbs her and causes her pain. He wants to beg again for her forgiveness for his unpardonable behavior, a behavior that she did try to make him believe was forgiven last night but too adbominable now in the light of day to do so in earnest. He wants to say that a moment doesn't go by where he doesn't think of his past actions without abhorrence, but his throat tightens and his mouth goes dry. Instead he stands there in silence wishing he had never come into the garden. 

She turns away from him in an attempt to hide a sob that escapes her. But he hears and it cuts through his heart like a dagger. In two strides he is next to her. "Oh Mulan, I never met to hurt you with my presence," he pleads to her. "I'll leave at once, but please know I'd rather die than cause you any pain." 

"No, no. You have done nothing wrong Shang. You've been nothing but good to me." She tells him after regaining some composure. "It is just me being incredibly foolish. I must admit that I have no right to be like this. You have every right to go to General Sun's house and take his offer, and being unspoken for you have every right to choose his daughter Meigui. She has always been known to eventually bring great honor to her family in marriage." 

Shang steps closer, his mind reeling with vague hope. "I arrived at the ceremony very late and haven't spoken to the General, so I am not sure what you are talking about." 

She looks curiously at him with a face so fresh and beautiful. "But I overheard his conversation with my father..." she starts, her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "...and you were already with her? Laughing and talking _closely_ to her?" 

"We were only talking. And as of being close, well, she is bold, which seems to the characteristic of woman raised in this village." He attempts to smile but she doesn't return it. His heartrate continues to increase. "As much as I would like to see the old general again, I could not accept any offer to see his family under that pretext. Meigui, although pleasant, is not a wife for me." 

"Oh.." She murmurs, her mouth forming a perfect pink "O"; he can not take his eyes off of them. 

"My hypothetical marriage disturbs you?" 

"I didn't say that." 

"But you were crying." 

Seeing that she is cornered, Mulan turns the table back onto him. "Then why are you here if not to court her? Why not send someone else to return my helmet?" 

Unable to speak the truth, he involuntarily reaches out and touches her cheek, letting his fingertips sample the smoothness of her skin. She doesn't move, but her breath quickens. 

Feeling the full effect of the intoxication he so earlier tried to avoid Shang moves his hand into her hair arch her face closer into his. He knows he isn't suppose to do this but she is so close. His body vetoes his mind and he leans to softly brush her lips with his own, slightly, cells barely touching. That is all he wanted, just to feel those sweet pink lips hoping that would be enough to quench the strange and urgent desire threatening to overtake him. 

Her intake of breath is soft and audible as she moves closer to him, her hands spreading over his breastbone. He can feel his heartbeat increase and the rough sound of his own breathing. "Oh Mulan," he hears himself mutter as if someone else had taken control of him. His next kiss is fuller and insistant, parting her warm lips. He is conscious of her body arching closer to him as her hands move up his chest to his shoulders then smooth arms interlacing around his neck locking him to her. He feels the curve of her hip and the pressure of her breasts against his body. He doesn't know how his own arms become wrapped around her possessively. As the kiss grows harder and he is consumed by its power. Taste and texture blend into a kaleidoscope of pleasure deep within him. The intimacy is so fierce that it is almost too late to stop when he realizes what was happening to them. Abruptly he grabs her shoulders and pushes her away. 

"S-sorry..." he tries to speak as he fights to breathe and gain control at the same time. "I-I-I shouldn't have ..." he stutters, his voice barely heard over his own heartbeat. 

Her cheeks are scarlet and her eyes widened endlessly as they search his face for an answer. She can feel herself trembling. The woman who so bravely ran toward 2000 charging Huns, the young warrioress who shattered Shan-Yu's body into a million pieces over the Imperial City and then slept soundly without remorse over the grumsome death of her enemies, this same woman stands petrified of herself right now. Petrified of her own sexual awakening, petrified of how she held him tight against her, how she did not want him to stop, how she would have so easily given herself to him even though she did not know if he would be with her tomorrow. 

He takes a slow deliberate breath before he speaks again. "I would have never--I wouldn't have...done this unless--," He has visions of Fa Zhou impaling him with Shan-Yu's sword, which at this point he would take as masochistic ecstasy. 

Her eyes narrowed, unblinking and vaguely intimidating. There is a thick, lush silence as his heart continues to thud. A thousand needles seem to prickle up and down the skin of his back as his stomach clenches tight, drawing itself into a harsh knot. It isn't supposed to be like this. 

He draws another long breath and turns away from her. The view across the garden is settling, the trees moving softly in the wind give him him some calming strength. 

"I don't know how to tell you," his voice is a soft whisper, as he watches the last magnolia blooms lay still on the grounds after being brushed off effortlessly from their branches; they form a vision of white, pink and green that suddenly blur in his vision. "I don't mean to shame you, believe me. I adore you...I can't stop thinking about you, how wonderful and beautiful you are. And I don't know what to do about it because I know you deserve so much more. You deserve someone that never doubted you ..." He stops himself before he starts incoherantly rambling. 

A few seconds of tortuous silence. 

"But you are _the_ General Li's son, your family is the most respected in China," she finally tells him. "You can have _anyone_. You can choose for you the most excellent obedient and quiet wife, so unlike me." 

He turns to look at her, slowly, deceived by the serenity of her voice. "You are China's nobliest and truest hero," he tells her, "your family will be honored forever. You don't need any pompous and arrogant captain as a husband, if that were your wish. Especially not one who hurts you and takes advantage of you." 

She smiles broadly, in a way he remembers Ping doing once. "Well, I served under the greatest Captain, who trained me well in the martial arts so..." she starts moving closer to him,"if that wasn't my true wish, do you think I would allow a man to kiss me as if he were my arrogant husband without kicking his face into the ground?" 

Shock takes him back for a moment as she slips her arms around him and rests her cheek on his chest. "I adore you too Captain," she whispers to him, her voice as soft and light as those petals once drifting in air. 

The scent of her, sweet and fullbodied, is unspeakably filling. Never good with words, he just lets his hand glide the round curve of her shoulder and down the delicate flare of her hips while the other hand grasps her slender hand. He notices how each fingernail is a perfect pink oval with one pearly half moon. He is overcome with the happiness of the prospect of so many new little discoveries that lie ahead. 

**** 

   [1]: mailto:saladbar8@hotmail.com



	8. Epilogue

**The Mind's Journey Home **

AUTHOR: [Chata Saladbar][1]

Chapter 8: Epilogue 

His father comes to him in a dream, and as strong and emposing as he was in life. He hovers over him and says that he loves him, and how happy he is to be reunited with his wife and lost children. Shang tries to grasp his father's hand to keep him with him but he floats away. His father's last words echo towards him "You honor us..." 

He is awakened with the sensation of warm soft lips on his neck. He knows his wife is gently trying to stir her husband, and he smiles to see that it is still dark outside. He relishes the touch of Mulan's efforts for a few more moments, thinking of the happiness he has found within her, the extended family he now shares with her, and about the love that has saved him. Then he turns to her and meets her full on the mouth to once again fulfill this amazing desire between them, and spend another night home in paradise. 

THE END 

   [1]: mailto:saladbar8@hotmail.com



End file.
